


Patchwork

by youalwayscount



Category: Frankenstein - Mary Shelley, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Meetings, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-28
Updated: 2012-08-28
Packaged: 2017-11-13 01:24:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youalwayscount/pseuds/youalwayscount
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly could hear restrained, almost imperceptible breathing, as if though it were very very quiet, Molly would forget it was there and go away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patchwork

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a prompt fill on tumblr

Molly drew her heavy cloak closer to her shoulders as her well worn boots splashed down the uneven muddy lane. She flinched as thunder rolled and roiled above her sturdy but unfashionably black umbrella. The drizzle was becoming more rain like with each passing second, and she could feel her long skirts getting heavier and heavier with each soaking step.

"Of all the times he makes me play errand girl! It's like he PLANS how to ruin my day!" she thought irritably. The Holmes family were good, (if not well paying) masters; but some days young master Sherlock, who was no older than Molly her self, saw fit to run the house like an absolute tyrant. This afternoon he had snapped at her and ordered her out to buy powdered calcium, hogs feet, iron screws and lye. "For an experiment he said" she muttered as lightning cracked over head. "Whatever kind of experiment that is."

The rain was coming down harder now, and Molly could no longer see the road ahead. But she saw shelter on the side of the country lane; a tiny ramshackle lean to underneath a tree. She quickly rushed for it, eager for any chance to escape the icy deluge.

The lean to was shadowy, creaky and about as holey as a flour sieve, but it was a far cry better than chancing the road. Molly sighed in relief as she lowered her hood, but found herself back against the wall and biting back a scream as one of the shadows in the corner moved.

"Get back! I'm armed!" she squeaked, trying to look as threatening as a soaking young housemaid brandishing an umbrella could be, one eye screwed shut. The shadow beat a hasty retreat into the half darkness and cowered into itself, folding in on itself, as if it wanted nothing more than to disappear.

After a moment of absolute standstill, Molly slowly lowered her weapon and opened her other eye. Peering into the gloom she dimly saw the quivering outline of a man.

She squatted down slowly (skirts be damned). "Sorry about that, you just startled me. Won't you come out where I can see you?"

The darkened mass shrank further into itself in reply.

"I won't hurt you, if you don't hurt me. Not that I actually could injure anyone with this daft old thing." she said with a bit of a laugh in her voice. The huddled lump did not move. Molly could hear restrained, almost imperceptible breathing, as if though it were very very quiet, Molly would forget it was there and go away.

Molly inched forward ever so slightly. "Please?" she asked softly.

For an eternity neither of them moved, or breathed. Everything was at a muted standstill, even the rain outside the splintered walls of the lean-to seemed a world away.

Finally, the figure slowly unfolded and inched toward the grey half light. Molly felt her eyes grow wide as the figure just kept unfolding and growing taller.

 _"A giant."_ was her first thought. Then _"Scars…so many scars…"_ But scars was not the right word. He was like a macabre rag doll brought to life; so many ill fitting pieces held together only by crude stitching and the wide, terrified eyes of something not quite human, but not quite animal as well. This was not some nightmareish reject of nature; this was clear cruelty. Someone had played at being God, and this was the cruel, unfortunate result that had been tossed away, like one of Master Sherlocks many failed experiments; binned and neglected without a second thought.

The point was though; he was clearly unarmed, and clearly freezing.

Molly slowly stood up, which did nothing to decrease the strange creatures height. "I'm Molly. Molly Hooper. Who are you?"

The Creature opened his mouth to reply, but closed it, as if he himself did not know the answer to her query. Now that she was standing up, she could see fully how painfully thin the rags were on his hulking patchwork frame.

"Are you cold?" she asked, slowly moving to unfasten her cloak. The Creature merely blinked at her. She held out the thick bundled cloth anyway. "Take this; please."

The Creature gingerly, hesitantly reached for the bundle. His rough skinned hands jumped slightly at the feel of the fabric; as if something so soft and thick were alien to him. His gnarled fingers curled into the fabric as he slowly withdrew his arms to his chest, cradling the gift with almost saint like reverence.

Molly smiled gently, and it only grew when the Creature matched it with his own slow, lopsided grin.

Outside, the rain kept falling.


End file.
